


The Mountains We Climb

by brandinm05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, america set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandinm05/pseuds/brandinm05
Summary: It's five years after the War, and Draco has all but left the Wizarding World to climb the tallest mountains in the world.  Hermione Granger had left the Wizarding World too, taking off to the Rocky Mountains for University.  When their two worlds collide,  they must learn to navigate treacherous terrain, both on the mountain, and in their hearts.





	The Mountains We Climb

Draco shrugged the rucksack on his back, letting it settle into position.

The landscape around him was new and strange, but the feel of the bag on his back was familiar. He’d gone through the same exact motions many times before. From Mt Elbrus in the Caucasus Mountains, to Mt Kozciuzko in Australia, and Mt Kilimanjaro in Africa, Draco had slung his bag onto his back and prepared to pit his body against nature.

When he’d been in Azkaban, disciplining his body as he’d disciplined his mind, it hadn’t crossed his mind that he’d one day be traveling the world, climbing mountains the Muggle way.

On the day of his release, he’d left that gloomy fortress prison without looking back.

Unfortunately, life on the outside was almost as hard as on the inside. Shunned by the Wizarding community, he felt an overwhelming need to get away from the society he no longer seemed to have any ties to.

He’d found himself in a Muggle pub, somehow falling in with a crowd of adventurous young people. With nothing better to do, he’d followed them thousands of feet up the nearest mountain.

As he’d stood at the top—the crisp, icy wind drying the sweat on his skin, the valley laid out far below him—he’d felt an incredible moment of peace and serenity, of triumph and pride.

It had positively blown his mind, and he’d never looked back.

Several climbs later, and here he was at the trailhead at Mt Bierstadt, prepared to try himself on the famed Rocky Mountains.

He took a deep breath, preparing to set out, when he heard a voice—a very proper, very loud, very British voice.

“Alright girls, who can tell me how Mt Bierstadt got its name?” the voice called.

Curious to hear a British accent in the heart of America, Draco approached the group — all teenage girls wearing hiking gear.

One of the girls raised her hand. “It’s named after its first summiter, Albert Bierstadt, a German-American painter.”

The woman’s laugh tinkled through the air, stirring something in Draco’s stomach. “That’s correct, Julie. Now, who can tell me how tall it is?”

Draco moved his way through the crowd slowly, his mind racing.

Then he saw her: tall and tan, with freckles dotting her face—and a pair of chocolate brown eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

Hermione Granger.

He hadn’t seen her since she’d spoken up for him at his trial.

He’d been shocked to hear the arguments she’d made _against_ his incarceration, the way she’d spoken so compassionately about a young boy’s tailspin into darkness.

It hadn’t changed his sentence, but her words had profoundly affected _him_.

And he’d never forgotten those eyes.

They’d given him hope in some of his darkest nights, kept him sane while also haunting his dreams.

As if she could hear the pounding of his heart, those eyes turned and met his.

Finding a measure of courage, he answered her question. “At 14,065 feet, it is the 38th highest peak in Colorado.”

* * *

 

Hermione Granger struggled to find her words, her mouth gaping open, then closing, before she finally managed to say, “Somebody did their homework.”  

Her heart racing, she looked at the unexpectedly familiar face.

She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Give me just a moment,” she told the girls, to buy herself some time. “I’ll be right back.”  

She stepped backwards, away from the crowd. Draco Malfoy was here. _Why_ was Draco Malfoy here? In America—in _Colorado_! Her mind showed her again the image of him  standing against the background of the Colorado landscape in athletic Muggle clothing. And why did he look so. . .fit?  

Wait—did she just think of Draco Malfoy as fit?  

Sighing, she heard footsteps approaching her.

“Granger?”

She cleared her throat. “Malfoy—what are you doing here?”

He smiled slowly, nonplussed by her question. “Believe it or not, I’m here for a  hike.” He nodded towards his backpack, chuckling, and she thought she saw a twinkle in his grey eyes.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Draco Malfoy on a hike?  Incredible.” She paused, before adding, lamely, “In all the mountains, in all the world.”

Taking a glance at her watch, she said, “We leave in 5 minutes. You have four minutes and thirty seconds to explain what you’re doing here.”

“I’m truly here to hike—Mt Bierstadt first, then Longs Peak, Ice Lake Trail and Pikes Peak.”  

As he spoke, his eyes traveled from her feet, clad in hiking boots, up to her khaki shorts, khaki shirt and khaki hat.  He asked, with some amusement, “Should I address you as Ranger Granger, then?”

“Miss Hermione is fine,” she ground out. “I suppose you intend to join us to the top, eh?”

Malfoy looked around. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She considered him carefully, then grabbed her pack and addressed the group, “Girls, please meet Mr Malfoy. He’ll be joining us for our hike today.”

Immediately, the group erupted into a cacophony of whispers, giggles and sighs.

Hermione smirked at the unexpected blush that reddened his cheeks, and she couldn’t help but think it was going to be an interesting hike on the mountain today.  

* * *

 

Several hours later, at the top of Mt Bierstadt, Hermione watched as Malfoy meticulously set up the fire wood, piling it just so and adding the kindling. She was surprised when he pulled out a flint stick and scraped it with a keychain, sparks shooting out onto the kindling and setting it ablaze. Not a single ounce of magic used.

Hermione might be willing to accept a Malfoy on a hike. Maybe. However, Draco Malfoy—Sacred Twenty-Eight, Pureblood royalty—not using simple magic to set a fire?  

“A simple Incendio would have sufficed,” she pointed out under her breath.

“I don’t like to use magic when I know the Muggle way,” he revealed, grabbing his flint stick and disappearing off into the woods to get more sticks.

Hermione sighed.  Malfoy was so mercurial.

Shaking her head, she turned to oversee her hikers, a surge of pride rising in her chest.

When the class first started, most had never hiked a day in their life—some didn’t even know how to use a compass!  Now, they were reading maps _and_ using a compass. They had grown and learned so much in the few weeks they’d been with her.

That got her to thinking, though—if these girls could learn this much in such a short period of time, who’s to say that Malfoy hadn’t learned a thing or two in the past few years?

Curious to learn more about this man who was both extremely familiar and disconcertingly unknown, she summoned some Gryffindor courage and approached him towards the end of the hike.

“Would you like to go to dinner tonight?” she asked.

Draco smirked. “Ranger Granger, are you asking me out on a date?”

Hermione looked at him drolly. “Shut it, Malfoy. Yes or no?”

He toyed with her, cocking his head back and forth. “I suppose I do need sustenance if I am to climb more mountains. What did you have in mind?”

“Meet me at Flip Side at eight?”

He barely had time to agree before she slipped off into the crowd.

* * *

 

The following day, Draco couldn’t help but smile to himself as the Jeep rolled down the mountain road.

Dinner had gone about as well as he had expected. Even better, actually, as he’d somehow managed to get her to agree to join him on the Ice Lake hike.

Really, she’d offered to drive, since she had a car. When she’d found out he had planned on hitchhiking his way through the Rocky Mountains, she’d offered to be his guide and his ride.  He couldn’t say no to her offer.

_‘In all the mountains, in all the world’._  

They’d already been on the road an hour, exchanging small talk as she drove.

Her Muggle clothes today consisted of khaki shorts, a T-shirt with Greek letters on it, and sturdy hiking boots. Her unruly hair was pulled back behind a headband in a loose bun high on her head. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks.

“Colorado’s been really good for you, Granger,” he admitted. “I never noticed all those freckles before.”

A charming blush rose up her neck, and she smiled. “You’re one to talk. Look at you! You don’t look anything like the boy I remember from Hogwarts.”

He grinned, puffing his chest out a bit. “Yeah, you know. . .been climbing mountains. Have to stay fit.”  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye before they both burst into laughter.

A few hours and several stories later, she pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of the trailhead. It was an eight mile hike, round trip, and the duo planned to hike up to the top, camp out for the evening, and then return the next day.

The hot sun made the climb a grueling one. Sweat was soon pouring down Draco’s back.

Luckily, this particular trail had a sizeable waterfall on the right for much of those two miles. There was a constant spray of mist around them, and the moisture clung to Hermione’s hair, making the curls tighten around the crown of her head. Draco tried more than once to convince Hermione to jump in, but she refused each time.

“Still wound up tight, eh Ranger Granger?” he called out to her, in response to her claims of potential broken femurs with no Skele-Grow to fix them.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sped off up the trail. Draco jogged to catch up to her as she crested the top of their current hill.

“Granger, c’mon, you know I’m just teasing you!” he said, pushing overgrown foliage out of his way.

As the ground leveled out, he immediately stopped in his tracks.

At first, all he could see were the purples and golds from the wildflowers blanketing the green meadow. Then, the sparkling blue water of Ice Lake, with large boulders jutting out around the beach, captured his attention.

Off in the distance, the San Juan mountains stood proudly, the slightest glistening of spring snow still coating the peaks.

Hermione smiled at his awestruck reaction. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Words are failing me at the moment,” he responded, just trying to take it all in.

He shook his head to clear it. “Do you mind if we settle in? Maybe we could have a bite.”

Hermione shrugged, and together they secured a spot under a tree and set up camp.

While Hermione busied herself with unpacking their lunches, Draco started to pitch the tent.

The sun was well overhead, beating down on the backs of their necks as they worked.

Hermione mindlessly smacked at a mosquito, causing Draco to smirk.  He shuffled around in his pack to find his bug repellent salve and tossed it to her.

“Made it myself,” he said confidently. “Don’t worry, it’s cruelty-free and vegan-approved,” he added, turning back to the tent setup.

Hermione gave him a small grin and opened the pot of ointment. She sniffed it, relieved to find it smelled pleasantly like eucalyptus. After rubbing a bit on her neck and arms, she immediately noticed a difference.

“So, you brew potions and salves, but you won’t use magic to put up your tent?” she asked.

Draco sighed, snapping the last piece into place. “I didn’t need magic, see?” He gestured at a tiny, two person tent. It was brown, dingy—she even spied a hole in the roof.

Incredulous, she asked, “You don’t actually expect me to sleep in that, do you?”

“Granger, when will you ever learn,” he said, opening the flap to the tent, “to stop judging a book by its cover?”

Hermione peered in, suspicious at first, before stepping into the. . .foyer?  “It’s a Magical tent!” she exclaimed.

“I refuse to camp without one,” he answered arrogantly.

There was a fireplace and a full kitchen, including a tiny dining table that looked homemade. The furniture throughout the tent looked well-loved, chosen specifically by the tent’s owner. Hermione walked towards one wall, featuring a fairly large bookcase.

“You must have one hell of an Extendable Charm on your tent pack,” she observed, pulling a copy of Steep Trails off the shelf. “John Muir,” she read aloud, mostly to herself. Her eyes scanned the others: Hawthorne, Alcott, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, Twain...

“American Muggle authors?” She slid the book back into its spot and turned to face Draco. “Muggle camping, Muggle transportation, Muggle clothes, Muggle books—what gives, Malfoy?”

Draco pursed his lips and moved towards the kitchen, dodging her question. “Can I get you a cuppa?”  He pulled a tin from a cabinet and put a tea kettle on the stove.

“I’m just trying to understand why you’re here, Draco.”

His first name on her lips made butterflies stir in his stomach. Ignoring her question, he asked, “Earl Grey?”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slowly approached him while he prepared the tea. He stopped moving when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Please, Draco, talk to me.”

He turned around, leaning back against the countertop. She was less than a foot away, her chocolate brown eyes staring into his. He sighed. “We’ve already talked about this.”

Hermione grimaced. “Why do you, Slytherin Pureblood Prince, want to do things the _Muggle_ way?”

He scowled back at her. “You learn to do a lot of things the Muggle way when you don’t have magic, Granger.”

The kettle squealed just at that moment, and Draco rushed to pull it off the burner. He busied himself pouring the two cups of tea into two very different teacups. When he gestured towards the kitchen table, Hermione took a seat.

For a while, they just sat quietly, stirring their tea, neither one saying a word.

After what seemed like an eternity, Draco broke the silence.

“You spoke at my hearing.”

Their eyes met, and she simply nodded slowly.

He continued.  “I was positively horrible to you, and you still… You spoke at my hearing.”

“And you could have easily identified us that night in the Manor, but you didn’t,” she responded, matter-of-factly.

Draco stared at the floor, lost in the memory of that night. “That was one of the worst nights of my life,” he admitted. “Some nights I still hear your screams in my sleep.”

Her eyes met his. “You know that I don’t blame you, right?  It’s not your fault that your aunt was a psychotic sadist with a penchant for murder and torture.”  

Taking Draco’s hand, she repeated, “It’s not your fault.”

Draco scowled, his heart sinking at the thought of the incident with Katie Bell in sixth year. “Some of it is my fault.”

“And you served your sentence for that,” she returned.

Draco leaned back in his chair, sulking. “Tell that to Wizarding London. They all but threw me out on the streets after I was released. I had to beg to complete my NEWT exams, not that it did any good. Nobody wants to hire an ex-Death Eater.”

“Is that why you’re not in England?”

Draco nodded, his eyes shrouded in defeat. “I got tired of the stares. My mother moved in with Aunt Dromeda to care for Teddy, and I’ve barely set foot in Malfoy Manor since I was released. I found myself hiding out in different pubs, trying to drown myself in Firewhisky, and I still couldn’t escape the judgement.  So, I started going to Muggle pubs.”

Hermione nearly choked on her tea. “What?”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t act so surprised, Granger. I know you get it. The safety of going where no one recognizes you? Where you can be whoever you want, and not be burdened by the judgement of those who think they know you?”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, yes, I see your point. But I’m a Muggle-born. It was easy for me to escape into the Muggle world. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

Draco sneered. “Lucky for me, I was forced to take Muggle Studies during my final year of Hogwarts Curriculum. Not only did I learn how to iron my own shirts, I also learned about Muggle currency.”

Still holding his hand, she gave him a kind smile and said, “Thank you.”

He gave her a curt nod, knowing she was glad to understand him better than before.  The two spent the rest of the afternoon at their camp learning more about each other, talking and laughing.

Soon, the sky was positively littered with bright, twinkling stars.

Draco pulled out an old quilt and laid it on the ground, lying atop it himself.

He called to Hermione, “The view’s better from down here!”

“I’m pretty certain the view is exactly the same from right here,” she replied from her spot by the fire. She snuggled deeper into her camping chair, wrapping a chunky shawl tight around her shoulders.

Draco shook his head. “Trust me, it’s definitely a much better view from here. It’s the perfect angle for the show.” He patted the space next to him in invitation.

Realizing he was not going to relent, she sighed audibly. “Fine.” Reluctantly, she trudged over to the blanket and plopped down, criss-crossing her legs beneath her.

Draco smiled again. “Was that so very difficult?”

“You have no idea,” she answered, straightening the quilt beneath her. “And the ground is very uncomfortable.”

“It’s because you’re sitting, instead of laying down,” he said, motioning at the blanket.

She sighed again, but did as he expected, laying down beside him. Her hair, no longer in a bun, splayed out in every direction

Draco inhaled. She smelled like a perfect summer day—sweet vanilla mixed with honey and fresh air. He rolled on his side, propping his head up with his arm, and watched her as she looked up into the sky.

“I thought the stars were the show,” Hermione said, trying to ignore his stare.

A wolfish grin spread across his lips, as he noticed the blush that rose on her cheeks. “Sorry, Ranger Granger, the show was most certainly stolen the moment you laid down next to me.”

Hermione hummed noncommittally. “I was just doing what you instructed.”

“Indeed,” he responded. His voice dropped to a low, suggestive tone. “And do you always do as you’re instructed, Granger?”  He reached out, gingerly touching her hair. When she didn’t seem to object, he let his fingers trace from the tips of her hair, up to her ears, trailing to her face.

“Why? Do you have more instructions?” she asked in a breathy voice, leaning into his caresses. His fingertips reached her lips, and her eyelids fluttered as she looked into his stormy, grey eyes.

Draco, surprised by her response, closed his eyes, suddenly unsure of his next step. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the witch. The building need to feel her lips against his was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. When he opened his eyes again, her chocolate brown eyes were staring at him.

He wanted so badly to kiss her lips and watch those eyes flutter closed. He pushed down on that desire, and forced himself to release the breath he’d unintentionally been holding. “Not yet.”

Hermione turned away, but he caught the look. Disappointment.

Maybe she did want him to kiss her, after all.

Mustering up courage, he leaned towards her, capturing her lips with his.

Despite her initial surprise, he felt her give in to the kiss almost immediately.

Her lips were soft, and each time she returned his kisses, butterflies soared in his stomach.

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping her in his arms, afraid that if he stopped, it would never happen again.

When she broke away for a breath, he peppered kisses down her jaw, her neck, and down to her collarbone. He kissed every freckle he could, down and then back up to her lips.

Tiny synapses were going off in his head, and he thought he’d never felt quite so high.

She kissed him back with a ferocity he was unaware she had, and her hands roamed everywhere—his shoulders, his biceps, his hair. He found he loved when she tugged on his hair. Each pull sent a matching thrill straight down his spine.

Finally, realizing this could escalate much faster than he intended, he broke away from her mouth. Instead, he pulled her in tightly against him and kissed her temple.

“That was better than I could have imagined,” he whispered against her hair.

She smiled into his chest and inhaled deeply, wrapping her arms around him.

Draco liked that. Indeed, Draco liked that quite a lot. In fact, he could most certainly get used to this—all of it.

He expected more questions from her—more conversation, _something_. Instead, there was only silence as he stroked her hair. Her breathing soon deepened and he realized she’d fallen asleep.

He kissed her temple again and situated the blanket so that it draped across them both. Snuggling into her warmth, he whispered, “You’re beautiful, Hermione.”

Soon, he too was fast asleep, with just the stars above to watch over them.

* * *

 

The next morning, they packed up camp and headed back down the mountain. He’d tried to talk to her about the kiss several times, but she wouldn’t have it.

Draco felt the day of travel in her Jeep was pleasant enough, but they were dusty and dirty from the two days on the trail.

“You can come back to my place, I have spare towels,” Hermione had suggested casually.

It seemed reasonable and it wasn’t long after that Hermione pulled into a driveway. She put the Jeep into park and leapt out, grabbing her rucksack and heading towards her front door.

Draco followed, taking a minute to survey the area.

A small, cozy cabin sat on top of a hill, overlooking the town. Tall pine trees flanked either side, and he noticed a swing hanging from the ceiling of the porch.

“You can set your pack on the chair there,” Hermione said, motioning to the overstuffed armchair as he walked in. “I’d offer you my spare bedroom, but...”

“You don’t have one?” he finished for her.

She smiled. “One bathroom, one bedroom, one tiny kitchen. That’s all I wanted when I started looking for a home.”

Draco nodded, stepping towards the bookshelf that lined her entire back wall. Hundreds of books filled the shelves, but so did a variety of photographs.

He picked up the frame that held the Golden Trio; in the picture, Hermione was laughing at something Ron had whispered in her ear, and Harry was smiling too. They looked… young. Innocent. Untouched by the War.

Draco carefully put the picture frame back and picked up another. This time, it was Hermione surrounded by a group of young women, all wearing the same Greek letters on their shirts.

“Those are my sorority sisters,” she explained proudly, as she walked across the room to the kitchen.

Moments later, Hermione was back with two cups of piping hot tea.

Draco waited as Hermione settled into the other chair in the room. “Why did you join a sorority, Granger? You mentioned it at dinner the other night, too.”

For a moment, Hermione was quiet. She just sipped her tea, thinking. “After the War, things just sort of fell apart for me. Harry and Ron went on to Auror training, while I went back and finished seventh year by myself. ”  

She paused for a moment, as if she needed to regain her composure.

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I tried very hard to deal with my ‘issues,’ as Harry and Ron liked to call it. Maybe it was their Auror training, I’m not entirely sure, but they just… moved on. And I was left behind, sorting out these feelings and horrible nightmares. McGonagall eventually moved me to a room by myself, because I kept waking my roommates with screams.”  

She sniffled and brushed a stray tear from her cheek.

Draco crossed the room and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Granger.”  He knew it wasn’t much, but he wanted her to know he was there for her now, even though he couldn’t be there for her then.

She squeezed Draco’s hand. “That’s why, Draco.”

His stomach stirred from hearing his first name on her lips yet again. Looking up into her eyes he asked, “Why what?”

“That’s why I spoke for you at your hearing.”  She brushed another tear from her cheek, her bottom lip quivering. “I think I finally understood why you did what you did, why you were the way you were.”  She stopped talking, and took another deep breath, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t deserve to spend the rest of your life paying for someone else’s crimes.”

At this, Draco buried his head in her lap, hiding the tears that had slid down his own cheek. He felt her hands slide through his hair, to the stubble that had started to grow on his cheeks.

Gently, she picked up his head so that she could look at him. “You see, I believe that you are a good person, Draco Malfoy.”  

Then, she kissed him. Soft at first, but then stronger, hungrier.

He pulled her down into his lap, not breaking the kiss, completely lost in the taste of her. Vanilla and honey, with a bit of Earl Gray. He thought at that moment that nothing could possibly taste better.

Merlin, he wanted her. He teased her lips with his tongue, and she responded in kind by sucking his lower lip and biting it softly.

Growling, he picked her up and laid her down on the rug-covered floor. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

She moaned and pulled his shirt over his head. His fingers found the hemline of her shirt, and he pulled it up, exposing the skin of her belly.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of his back, while he nibbled at her collar bone, watching with satisfaction as she writhed beneath him.

“More, Draco, please,” she breathed out, as he began kissing down the space between her breasts. She wore a plain cotton bra, no lace or frills. He smirked at her choice of no-nonsense intimate wear and wondered if she wore matching knickers.

Just as he was about to find out, there was a knock at the door.

Immediately, they both stopped, gasping for breath.

“Expecting someone, Granger?”

Hermione stood up, pulling her shirt down and smoothing it out. “No, actually, I’m not.”  

Hermione disappeared to greet her guest on the porch, returning only momentarily to grab a bag of herbs from her kitchen and head back out to the porch.  

Minutes passed before Draco heard a car take off down the drive.

The anticipation started rebuilding in his stomach.  The way she made him feel—he couldn’t wait for her to be back in his arms, holding her close, breathing her in.  

The door opened and Hermione stepped through, her hair a mess because of the wind.  

Draco approached her, brushing the stray hairs back.  

“Thanks,” she managed, before awkwardly walking away, collecting the cups as she went. She busied herself with cleaning up the kitchen and washing out the teacups in the sink.

Draco came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled her scent.

She shivered beneath his touch, but just said, “We should probably get moving if we’re going to set up camp tonight.”

Sensing she needed a little space, he said, “I suppose you’re right.”  

“Shower’s down the hall, on your right,” she told him. “Spare towels are in the closet.”

He found the bathroom easily enough and went about his business. He washed his hair with her shampoo. The smell of vanilla and honey washing over him caused a wave  of pleasure to surge towards his manhood.

He was still riled up from their snogging session earlier.

He wasn’t entirely sure he knew what it was about her that drove him to feel this way. She was smart and funny. He loved to hear her giggle, but when she laughed out loud—when he made her laugh out loud—he was certain there wasn’t a more delectable sound in the world.

He groaned, flipping on the cold water. He definitely need to cool down.

The feel of the water turning ice cold and spraying his back, made him hiss.

He stood there a few moments longer, just relishing the feel of it, before shutting the water off and stepping out. Quickly, he ran the towel over his head, his blonde hair poking out in various directions.

Tying the towel around his waist, he stepped into the hallway...

..and right into Hermione.

“Oof!” Her hands collided with his chest as she fell back.

Draco reached out, righting her, when he felt a very cold breeze.

Hermione looked down and then quickly averted her eyes. “Oh, erm, you um,” she stuttered out.

Draco looked down, realizing he was suddenly very naked in Hermione Granger’s hallway. He quickly bent down and grabbed his towel, securing it around his waist again.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, as he walked towards the living room to his backpack.

Hermione blushed deeply. “Oh, no, erm, no problem.”  She disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

Draco smirked, thinking of her blushing face, suddenly feeling quite optimistic again.

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, after a bearable hike into the forest, they had found the campsite and set up Draco’s tent. The plan was to start from that position as early as possible the next morning.

It was still dark outside when they started, so Hermione pulled a lantern from her bag and used it to guide them up the trail.

Six miles, and they would reach the summit of Long’s Peak. Draco wasn’t a fool, though. He knew thousands of people attempted the Fourteener, but only a select few ever actually made it to the Summit.

Long’s Peak wasn’t a hike, so much as a climb. Sheer vertical rock faces, falling rocks, steep cliffs and narrow ledges.

While he was rather practiced in this type of climbing, he had no idea if Hermione was, and concern started to well in his stomach.  

Sensing his anxiety, Hermione said, “We should be careful how we approach Boulder Field.  It’s easy to slip and roll your ankle.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but nodded.  His feelings of concern were immediately tamped away, because _of course_ she knew what she was doing.  She was Hermione Granger.

Shaking his head, he followed her across the field.   

They progressed slowly, as the boulders grew in size as they climbed.  

Eventually, they were forced to hop from boulder to boulder. After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to the Keyhole. It was quite the sight, with two large, jagged rock faces on either side of each other, forming what appeared to be a notch in the mountain.  

When they reached the hiking shelter, they stopped for a water break.  

Hermione sipped from her canteen. “I know you’re nervous about this climb, but I’ve done climbs like this before. It’s really not that dangerous.”

When Draco didn’t respond, Hermione continued, “Truly! Maybe a rolled ankle, or broken bone?  But it’s not like you’ll fall off the face of the mountain, Draco!”

Draco smiled. “I suppose you’re probably right, Ranger Granger.”  

With a roll of her eyes, they were back to climbing, Hermione taking the lead.

By the time they made it to the ledge area, there were very few other climbers on the trail.

As they approached the couloir, Hermione slowed down dramatically.

“We should take this area carefully,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow.  The sun was peeking through the clouds, and it was very windy. “Other climbers above us may have dislodged rocks, not to mention it’s still pretty snow-covered.”  She set her rucksack down, and pulled out an ice ax. “Do you have one of these?”

Draco smirked, his breathing heavy. “Do you really think I’d come all the way out here and not come prepared?”  He set his own pack down and pulled out an ax to match hers.

“I’m glad to see you’re quite the Boy Scout, Malfoy. Now, let’s go. After we get through the Trough, we’ll be on the Narrows.”

Carefully, they ascended through the Trough, using their ice axes to provide extra support as they climbed across the different rock faces. The flat slabs of rock were still wet from melting snow, and Hermione scrambled up and across carefully.

“It’s only about 100 feet to the summit from here,” she panted out. Sweat dripped down the side of her face, and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe it away.

Draco re-situated the rucksack on his back. “Well, let’s giddyup, Ranger Granger.”

Hermione threw him a fake smile at his painful American accent, but continued the climb up.  

Adrenaline pumped through Draco’s veins as he pulled himself up and over after Hermione. His biceps were screaming, and the tips of his fingers were raw. But he didn’t mind. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d do this every day, if he could do it with her.

Finally, after hours of hiking and climbing, their muscles burning, they crested the final rock face, leading them out onto the large and breathtaking summit plateau.

Despite being called a peak, the summit was actually very broad and flat.

Draco looked around, taking in the expansive views, again reminded of why he did this. There was something special about knowing he would be one of a select few to ever take in a view like this, that drove him to climb.  In every direction, incredible mountains ranges covered in snow spanned as far as he could see. In the distance, he could just make out the waters of Black Lake.

He was lost in thought when he heard Hermione calling to him.  

“Draco? We should probably re-fuel and head back down. I overheard other climbers talking about a storm coming in.”

Knowing he did not want to be caught on a mountain in a storm, he agreed. “Protein bar?” he offered.

Hermione smiled and nodded. “It’s going to be a scary climb down,” she said, opening the wrapper and taking a bite.

Draco looked up at her to see her eyeing the trail back as she chewed.

“Don’t fret, Granger. I suppose if you really wanted to, we could just Apparate back to our tent,” Draco responded, giving her a shoulder bump.

Hermione straightened, her eyes full of determination. “Why Apparate, when we can do it the Muggle way, right, Malfoy?”

Draco tilted his head back and laughed. “I suppose I deserved that?”

“Only a little bit,” Hermione retorted with a wink. “I know it was pretty icy coming up, but it’s going to be just as bad on the way down.”

Slowly, they descended down the mountain, the first quarter mile quite possibly some of the most dangerous climbing Draco had ever done. Additionally, he was constantly worried for Hermione’s safety. But she took each step with care, and soon, they were back at the Trough.

“We need to go faster,” he said to her, watching as dark clouds began to accumulate.

Hermione nodded. “If we can get to Boulder Field before—”

A crack of lightning sounded through the air. Her eyes widened. “Let’s move.”

Carefully, but quickly, they moved across Boulder Field. They were nearly through when the rain started. It poured down on them, while thunder rumbled and lightning crackled.

Hermione stopped, speaking loudly over the storm to Draco, “There’s a Rangers’ cabin on the other end of this field. We can wait out the storm there.”

Draco nodded and pushed forward. The rain pelted him hard on his shoulders and back, and the temperature kept dropping.

Without warning, the rain turned to hail. Ice the size of golf balls pummeled them, and another crack of lightning rang out.

Draco picked up speed to keep up with Hermione, who was quickly scrambling over the slippery boulders towards her destination.

He could just make out a chimney in the distance, when she started to flat out run towards the shelter, her rucksack bouncing up and down as she went. Draco followed suit, tired of the hail beating him.

Hermione pulled her wand from her pack once at the porch, and with a spell, unlocked the cabin door. They rushed into the shelter, glad to be out of harm’s way.

She quickly set about lighting lanterns and candles while Draco took in his surroundings.

It was a very small cabin; a desk in one corner, cluttered with various paperwork, and a tiny bed in the other.

“Lucky you knew about this cabin, eh?” he said to Hermione, shaking water from his hair.

“The last time I climbed Long’s Peak, I stayed here overnight. Not much in the way of amenities, but it’s a roof over our head, while we wait out the storm,” she said, as she looked through the cabinets.

“I wonder what will happen to the other climbers,” Draco mumbled aloud, before taking a seat on the end of the tiny cot.

He watched as Hermione crossed the room to the small desk, pulling the drawers open.  

She paused and gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t worry, most of those climbers had a guide with them. The guide will make sure they get to safety.”

Finally, she pulled a bottle of tequila from one of the drawers. “Yes!”

Unscrewing the cap, she took a sip. Her face scrunched up as she swallowed, causing Draco to laugh.

“Adorable, Granger.”

She handed him the bottle. “Let’s see you take a drink without making a face, Malfoy!”

Draco smirked, but grabbed the bottle and put it to his lips. The liquid burned as it traveled down his throat to his stomach. “Too bad we don’t have any limes.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Draco, we’re in a cabin in the woods. We’re lucky there’s a bottle of tequila.”

“I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, eh?” He handed the bottle back to Hermione.

“I suppose not,” was all she said in response.

She took another pull from the bottle and grimaced as it went down.

She handed Draco the bottle and bent down to untie her hiking boots.  With some effort, she pulled them off her feet, nearly falling over.

“Everything is completely soaked,” she groaned, sitting on the cot beside him. “And I’m so cold.”  

“You should get out of those wet clothes.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Trying to get me naked, Malfoy?”

He smirked. “Would you blame me, if I was?”

For a moment, she just looked at him, her eyes searching his.  

They hadn’t kissed since the day before, at her cabin, when she could barely keep her hands off of him.

He wasn’t sure how she would respond, so he cupped her cheek, leaned in and kissed her slowly.

“You’re shivering so hard, you’re shaking the bed,” he said against her lips.  

“My hair is wet.”

It was true.  Her hair was practically dripping with rain water.   

“Okay, you’re going to take those wet clothes off, tie up your hair, and get in bed,” Draco ordered.  “I don’t need you catching hypothermia.”

The tequila must have started to have an effect on her, as she didn’t think twice before peeling her soaking T-shirt off and then sliding off her shorts.  

Draco barely had a chance to take her in before she dove into the bed and pulled the worn blankets up.  

“Are you coming?” she asked.

His eyes flickered, before he too was pulling his soaking T-shirt off his back and climbing into the bed beside her.

The light of the candles twinkled on the ceiling.  The patter of the rain was the only sound for a long moment before Hermione finally said, “It’s so cold.”

Draco was silent, then the cot groaned a bit as he pulled her close him, his warmth washing over her.

“Your trousers are wet.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you take them off?”

“Hermione Granger, are _you_ trying to get _me_ naked?” he teased.

When she whined, he laughed, finally admitting. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

It took Hermione a moment. “Oh.”  

The silence following was nearly deafening before her voice broke through.  “You could take them off anyway.”

She rolled over on the cot and placed a drunken kiss on his lips.  Her icy hands roamed up and down his chest, pulling him closer still.  

Her kisses were driving him crazy, and he could see the effect his kisses were having on her.  Her lips were swollen, and her hair was completely mussed.

A drunk, happy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“So are you.”

He grinned, and butterflies flew in his chest.  

He had to have this woman.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She didn’t say a word, just pulled him closer, and kissed his lips.

Copying her lead, he kissed her deeply, before following her down onto the tiny cot.  

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Draco woke with a terrible pounding in his head. Images of the night before played out in flashes in his mind. He smiled through the pain, thinking of Hermione moaning his name.

He looked down at the witch in bed with him. Curly, chestnut brown hair poked out in different directions, and the twin-size blanket barely covered her bare bottom.

He kissed the top of her head and carefully rolled out of the bed.

When he tried to stand, the room spun, and he nearly fell over but caught himself on the bedpost.

The empty bottle of tequila laid sideways on the desk, almost taunting him.

Water, he needed water.

He pulled his jeans on, happy they’d finally dried out, and found his canteen of water.

After he guzzled what was left, he put his boots on and immediately left to refill it in the nearby stream.

He thought the little cabin was pretty perfect, despite having no running water. He even pictured himself returning another summer from now, with Hermione at his side.

He was lost in happy thoughts when he stepped into the cabin, canteens full of fresh water.

“Water,” a voice begged from the corner of the room.

Draco smiled and handed Hermione her canteen.

She took it greedily, quickly unscrewing the cap and chugging the water.

“So, about last night…”

Sitting up slowly, Hermione held up her hand. “Stop. Too loud.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, sitting down beside her on the bed. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Is this better?”

Hermione whimpered. “I hate tequila.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” he said back, kissing her bare shoulder. The action seemed to remind Hermione that she was naked—sober and in broad daylight! She quickly wrapped the blanket around her body, suddenly self-conscious.

Standing up, she said, “I should get dressed.”

She picked up different layers of clothes off the floor and gave Draco a pointed look.

When he continued staring at her, she made a circling movement with her finger, indicating he should turn around.

Draco chuckled. “It’s not as if I didn’t see it all last night, Granger.”

“That’s not the point,” Hermione huffed. “I’m just asking for a bit of courtesy.”

Shaking his head, he turned to face the wall. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re beautiful—pre, during and post tequila.”

“Stop saying that word,” she groaned.

“What? Beautiful?” Draco returned. He stood up from the bed and approached her as she pulled her T-shirt over her head. He pulled her against him. “You are, you know. Beautiful.”

She buried her face in his shirt, causing her voice to come out muffled. “No, not that… the other word.”

Smirking, he kissed the top of her head. “Oh, you mean tequila?”

“Arrrrg!” She pulled away from him, and yanked on her shorts. “Can we please get out of here?”

Draco tried to take his time, so he could memorize every single piece of the cabin—and cement his memories of the night before. But Hermione pushed him out the door and down the trail.

“Come on, Draco. I don’t want to be here all day!” she barked, several yards ahead of him.

Draco jogged to catch up with her.

She refused to make eye contact with him, so he asked, “Everything okay there, Ranger Granger?”

Her head snapped to face him. “Stop calling me that.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose in response. “Ooookay.”

She turned her eyes back to the trail and continued onward.

They were back in the forest now, but it was still early in the morning. Birds chirped in the trees as the sun began to shine through the summer foliage.

Keeping speed with Hermione, Draco tried again. He walked beside her and slipped his hand into hers.

For a moment, it was perfect.

But then Hermione pulled away.

Draco stopped and looked at her crossly. “Okay, what’s going on? You won’t look at me, you don’t want to talk to me or be near me… Is this about last night?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop acting like a teenage girl.”

Draco guffawed. “Oh, I’m acting like a girl?  Me? You’re the one who’s suddenly regretting what happened last night. Not me.”

“I don’t regret it.”

While she’d said the words, Draco could see in her eyes that she didn’t entirely mean them.

Draco sighed, frustrated with the turn their newfound relationship had made. “Let’s just get off the mountain, get you some breakfast, and we can talk.”

“Whatever,” Hermione muttered back, stalking off down the trail.

Draco shook his head, pausing on the trail. Hermione was quite moody today, and he still wasn’t sure what had caused the dramatic shift. Just last night, she was more than eager to be with him.

He waited until she was just out of sight, hidden by the trees, before continuing down the trail.

* * *

Hermione picked up speed. She could sense that Draco had given her some space, and right now, that was exactly what she needed.

Sleeping with Malfoy? What had she been thinking?   

_You weren’t_ , a voice that might have been her conscience whispered to her.

Oh, right. The fucking tequila had made sure of that.

What had possessed her to pull that bottle out of the desk?

That same voice in her head laughed at her, and flashed her a picture of Draco after his shower—both before and after that towel had dropped.

Oh, right. Draco Fucking Malfoy.

Courage, she remembered, she’d wanted that liquid courage.

Well, she’d certainly got more than she’d planned on.

And now, as she sped down the trail, she was second-guessing every decision she had made since he walked back into her life.

She still found it so hard to believe that Draco had given up his wizarding status to become a Muggle, let alone would be willing to look past her blood status to engage in a relationship with her.

And she still wasn’t completely sold on his story about why he didn’t do magic anymore. They’d been together for nearly a week, and she had yet to see him use a wand, or even doing wandless magic.

So completely lost in thought was she, that she didn’t realize she had left the trail and was now walking rather aimlessly through the woods.

Deciding she could use the adventure, she pressed on to the edge of the woods to get her bearings, and eventually found herself in front of a lake.

In desperate need of cooling off, she dropped her rucksack near a tree, and walked out onto an old, rickety dock. It swayed with each footstep, the water splashing up on the wood planks.

Sitting down on the edge, she removed her shoes to slip her feet into the water.

It was icy cold, but exactly what she needed to cool her off in her still very hungover state. She kicked her feet, back and forth, enjoying the way the water felt on her legs and splashing up on her arms.

Hermione loved the quiet solitude of being in the mountains—the feel of the mountain breeze on her cheeks, the smell of the pine trees in the air.  

She laid back on the dock, looking up at the sky. Big, white, fluffy clouds floated above her, and she found herself thinking of Draco again.

He was beautiful like summer rain and as irritating as sand between the toes.

As much as she wished last night hadn’t happened the _way_ it did, she didn’t really mind that it had happened.

In fact, she’d quite enjoyed last night—the way his tongue made her toes stretch and curl, and how his kisses sent butterflies through her every time.

And he had kissed her _everywhere_.

Her toes curled involuntarily just thinking about it. She sighed, sitting up on the dock.

Then she saw it—a bear.

Her breathing quickened, as did her heart rate. She could feel it in her ears. The great brown bear was lumbering closer to her, sniffing the ground. It hadn’t noticed her, yet, so she used this to her advantage, crouching down into a very small ball on the dock. Hermione hoped and prayed it would be enough to hide her, that the bear wouldn’t notice and would just move on.

But then she felt vibrations on the wood beneath her— the weight of the bear’s paw on the dock. Then another paw.

She could hear its sniffling nose, its heavy panting, as it slowly made its way closer to her.

The dock swayed violently back and forth under the bear’s weight, causing Hermione to nearly tumble off into the water. Trembling, she clung to herself, breathing as slowly and quietly as she could.

She peeked out from the corner of her arm just as she was sure she was bear food, and she saw a sparkling light streak out in front of her, landing on the bear’s nose.

The bear, confused by the light, sat back on his hind legs, and brought his paws to his face. He grunted and growled, as the light danced on his nostrils, then his paw, then the dock in front of him.

The bear chased the little light, just like Hermione had watched Crookshanks chase a laser. The light led the bear off the dock and into the pine trees, away from the lake.

Hermione let loose a breath and slowly unfolded herself before standing up.

Then she saw Draco rushing to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as his hands cupped her face, his eyes filled with terror.

Hermione nodded, gulping down air. “I—I—”

He pulled her close and murmured, “Shhhh, it’s okay Hermione, I’ve got you.”

She trembled in his arms, the adrenaline and fear still coursing through her veins. After several deep breaths, she tried to ask, “How—how did you—?”

Draco kissed the top of her head and pulled away.

That’s when she noticed the wand he was holding.

Hermione stepped back, confused. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s mine,” he answered casually, slipping the wand into his back pocket. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to hang around in case that bear comes back.”

They finished the rest of the hike in uneasy silence, neither willing to look the other in the eye; both choosing to keep their eyes directed in front of them instead.

Back at their camp, Hermione radioed the Park Rangers about the bear sighting, while Draco tore the camp down—the Muggle way.

“Draco,” Hermione called to him from outside the tent.

His head popped out of the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Can you come out here, please?”

Draco hesitated. “Let me finish up here. . .just a moment!”

He was stalling. Why was he stalling?

Finally, twenty minutes later, the tent was completely packed away, and Hermione approached him again.

“Draco?” she asked, turning him to face her. “We need to talk about what happened at the lake . . .with the bear.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “What’s to tell?  There was a bear, then there wasn’t. Problem solved.”

“But you—you used magic!” Hermione retorted. “You had a wand!”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “And?”

“You are impossible!”  Hermione exclaimed as she pulled her backpack on. She set off down the trail, thoroughly frustrated.

Today had been a truly terrible, awful day.

Finally, they were back at the Jeep. Hermione threw her pack in the back and hopped in, revving up the engine. She waited for Draco to climb in.

When he didn’t, she finally turned around and realized...

Draco was gone.

* * *

**Three Months Later**

_Breckenridge, CO_

Hermione enjoyed her job as a guide at Rocky Mountain National Park.

But some days, on days like today when the sky was a perfect blue and the air was crisp and clean...she couldn’t help feeling like something was missing.

About to start her day at Mt Bierstadt, she stopped for coffee before heading into the park, hoping some caffeine would jolt her out of her doldrums.

As she approached the counter, she was taken aback by the distinguished good looks of the barista... and his very blond hair. A young college student, no doubt.

He smiled at her, took her order, and gave her change while she stood in an uncomfortable daze.

When he set her coffee on the pickup bar, she mumbled her thanks and managed to smile back shyly.

As she walked towards the exit of her favourite coffee shop, she glanced down at her cup. ‘You’re beautiful’ was written in place of her name.

Surprised, she glanced back and their eyes met.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes coming back to the words on her cup as she exited.

Her mind was churning.

“Thanks,” she repeated quietly, even though she knew the barista couldn’t hear her anymore.

She headed right into the nearest alley, pulled her wand from her bag, and Apparated on the spot.

_London, UK_

Draco, Blaise and Theo sat at a table at the Leaky Cauldron.

It was raining—of course it was.

A bottle of Firewhisky sat in front of Draco, and the table was littered with shot glasses and empty pints.

Blaise and Theo laughed at a joke and poured themselves another shot.

When Theo offered Draco one, he declined. "I don't drink tequila.”  

“Bloody hell, Draco,” Theo complained, “since when do you not drink tequila?”

Maybe it was the Firewhisky loosening his tongue, but Draco finally told them all about Hermione, and his poor, sad broken heart— and the real reason why he'll never drink tequila again.

When he drinks tequila, all he can see is her. All he can smell, feel, hear, taste—is her.

And it kills him.

“Blimey, mate, you just need a good lay!” Theo laughed and clapped Draco on the back.

“Exactly, Draco, there are plenty of fish in the proverbial sea,” Blaise agreed, lifting a shot glass as if to toast him.

The bell at the front door rang out, drawing Draco’s eyes to it.

A woman stood there. A woman with a head full of chestnut brown hair.

A woman who was also wearing a lot of khaki.

Draco’s head cocked to the side. “Ranger Granger?”  

He stumbled to his feet, the Firewhisky and something else—something he tried to ignore—making him clumsy as he walked towards her.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she responded, grabbing his shirt to steady him. The movement pulled him close to her, and he went willingly.

“How did you know I’d be here?” he drunkenly asked.

She looked passed him to Theo and Blaise. “Just because I’m Stateside doesn’t mean I don’t still have a network.”

Draco laughed, realizing his friends had sold him out. “How very Slytherin of you, love.”  

Unable to help himself, and despite the dim warning sounding in the back of his head telling him this might not be the right time, he kissed her.

Ardently, he dragged her down, the kiss deep and long, trying to satisfy a hunger he’d had for months.

He finally broke the kiss and took a breath, trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts. “We should probably talk, yeah?”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” she retorted, a playful smile on her lips.

Draco took that as a good sign. “C’mon, I have a room upstairs.”  

He took her hand, not letting her go for a second, and led her upstairs to his room.

It was a small room, with a small bed, and a small window. There was even a small desk.

Draco sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. Hermione smiled, and primly took her spot.

“Why’d you leave me?” she asked, her voice suddenly serious, barely giving him even a moment to get his bearings.

Draco cleared his throat, the memories of their interlude months ago flashing again before his eyes. “I didn’t leave you, so much as I was detained by Aurors.”

“What?” she gasped.

“One of the conditions of my release was that I could only do magic in a life or death situation.That’s why you never saw me use magic,” he explained.

“But—your tent?”

“It was given to me and already charmed. I just moved my stuff in.”

“And the bug repelling salve?”

He smirked. “Mixing a salve is far from magic, Granger.”

Hermione considered it, before finally asking, “Did they put you back in Azkaban?”

Draco shook his head. “No, love. But they did bring me back to the Ministry to question me, which is why I disappeared.”

She reached for Draco’s hand, leaning into his body. “I was so worried about you.”

He kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on her hair, marveling that she was close enough to touch once again. “Nothing to be worried about, just a lot of mindless paperwork.”

Hermione pulled away. “So, if you weren’t in Azkaban for the past three months, where were you?”

Draco lowered his eyes, not quite fast enough to hide the look of shame that flitted across his face. “I just assumed…. after what happened, how you reacted…. you’d decided you were better off without me.”

“Oh Draco, you’re such an idiot.”

“I am?” he retorted, an eyebrow arched in question.

“You are,” she said, nodding emphatically and leaning in to kiss his lips. “Relationships are a lot like climbing mountains, you know—it’s messy, and it’s hard work. Sometimes, it’s painful and frustrating—you may even second guess why you’re climbing it.” She placed her hand on his face, keeping his eyes on her. “But Draco, you must know, I want this.”

She kissed him again, enjoying the way his lips followed hers. “I want you.”  

She climbed into his lap, needing to be as close as possible to him after spending so much time apart. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back with enthusiasm, delighted to have her with him again. And he realized that she was right—he had climbed actual mountains for this woman.

To hell if he was going to go back now.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading my story. It was written for the 100 Days of Summer Competition hosted by the Dramione Fanfiction Writers Group. My prompts were: "He was beautiful like summer rain and as irritating as sand between the toes", and "As she walked towards the exit of her favourite coffee shop, she glanced down at her cup. ‘You’re beautiful’ was written in place of her name. She glanced back and their eyes met."
> 
> S&R: Constructive Reviews Welcome (CRW), meaning all reviews welcome, including constructive criticism.


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